The Tragedy of Arthur: A Novel

  Didst bite at him as would a bear and now

  Dost whine what thou hast learnt of his sharp claws.

  Speak troth, thou wert impatient of God’s will.

  An God did wish thee sat on London’s throne,

  He would not send thee home with thanesmen’s dooms.

  MORDRED

  At Lincoln, King, I fought beside your son.

  CONRANUS

  Speak thou no more a word. He follows not?

  Waits not upon thee nor presents to me?

  MORDRED

  Brave Hebrides gave battle like to none.

  On horse and foot—

  CONRANUS

  No more. I want no more.

  MORDRED

  But Scotland! King! We must record his deeds!

  You weep that yet must gaze upon his valor!

  CONRANUS

  Show mercy on my soul and heed my plea.

  MORDRED

  Art thou a man? But ope thy frighted ear

  That I may teach thy tongue some noble words.

  For God, who makes us labor for our cause,

  Doth bid us praise each death as sacrifice,

  Necessity, the proving of our right.

  He wants not that we mourn His project’s cost,

  But celebrate all blood that lifts us on.

  [Enter Loth, carried, with attendants and Doctor]

  Make red thy lily heart; my father’s come—

  [To Loth] My king, you must prepare yourself at once.

  But briefly: Calvan would that we should come

  To London’s tower, thence to bring him home

  In change for some few scarcely valued words

  That Arthur would have spoke at him.6

  The hour of our strength will spring again,

  We’ll seize anew the vantage in the strife.

  DOCTOR

  Your father’s apoplexy, Prince, forbids

  His travel e’en from here to castle gate.

  [Loth makes a sound or gesture]

  MORDRED

  What? Would he speak? Explain these signs to me.

  Or would he have me nearer to his ear?

  DOCTOR

  His speech is off and on confused, and I

  Cannot, I fear, know always his intent.

  Enter first messenger

  CONRANUS

  Make haste.

  FIRST MSG.

  The Saxons did forswear their bail,

  Set down again and now lay siege to Bath.

  MORDRED

  At Colgerne’s word?

  FIRST MSG.

  It was.

  MORDRED

  On him the stain.

  Yet should he bloody the usurper’s nose,

  It does become the voice of God’s reply

  To Arthur’s unconfinèd blasphemy.

  Yet still we’ll pay for Calvan with our words.

  Enter messenger with bag

  The tidings like the tide do press and press

  Against our bonny shore. What jocund word?

  The bastard’s killed? Or Saxons fled to sea?

  This battle cannot end but well for me,

  With one or other of my foes defeat.

  Thou, sirrah, canst not fail but please, so speak.

  SECOND MSG.

  I bear no happy words and beg your grace.

  I dare not speak.

  MORDRED

  You choose to speak or die.

  SECOND MSG.

  I speak and die, or do in silence die.

  MORDRED

  ’Tis thus we all do live, my boy. Now speak.

  SECOND MSG.

  The Saxon treachery told to the king—

  MORDRED

  What king?

  SECOND MSG.

  King Arthur, lord.

  MORDRED

  Say not “the king”

  As he is none, or is but for a day.

  Say rather “bastard” or “usurping swine.”

  SECOND MSG.

  The Saxon treachery told to the swine,

  He put to death all ransom-waiting men.

  MORDRED

  Say rather “ransom-waiting Saxon men”

  As Saxony forswore itself, not we.

  SECOND MSG.

  But this in truth I cannot say, my lord.

  He gave command for every ransomed man

  And in unholy anger he did slay

  One man himself.

  MORDRED

  ’Twere better thou held tongue.

  CONRANUS

  Nay, nay, speak on, go on.

  SECOND MSG.

  To honor rank

  He offered Calvan sword and liberty

  If he could singly7 vanquish him.

  MORDRED

  No more.

  SECOND MSG.

  Enragèd passion seized King Arthur’s limbs.

  MORDRED

  No more, I say! No more, no more, no more!

  SECOND MSG.

  He smote your brother down and raught8 his locks

  And by those hairs he drew his head hard back.

  On Arthur’s face there shone a demon’s hate.

  He sends to you the head and broken sword

  Within this bag and bids me tell—

  MORDRED

  No more!

  [Mordred] kills messenger

  SECOND MSG.

  I curse thee, villain prince, and all thy seed!9

  CONRANUS

  How, nephew? Now thy site’s10 thine own, no word?

  Thy heart that spoke bravado now is cold.

  So whither appetite for chronicle?

  MORDRED

  Thou wouldst come o’er me with my right rebuke.11

  Then hear what manly speech I have for thee

  And bastard pup who wet his casual thirst

  With purest blood.12

  He opens bag

  O Calvan, brother, prince! O murdered boy!

  DOCTOR

  But soft. These words do close your father’s throat.

  This rattle sure is death’s unjointed13 talk.

  MORDRED

  Nay, sire! Can Arthur, malt-horse,14 paper king

  Still reign while breath itself rebels your will?

  But softly, King, my father’s only son

  Doth beg you not to yield t’imperious death.

  I cannot lose my father now.15

  You would yet speak? I bend to you my ear.

  [He leans close to Loth]

  Again, again. I swear it, father, aye.

  All shall be done to your precise command.—

  [To servants] You, bear him to his chapel, there to shrive

  His soul and read the verses due to him.

  [Exeunt except Mordred and Conranus]

  CONRANUS

  Such chatt’ring! How the dying king did buzz!

  MORDRED

  But sure the company imbibed each word?

  CONRANUS

  We heard from him no sound: thy table’s16 clean.

  MORDRED

  He urged me on to lose no days in tears,

  But clad in gimmaled17 mail and glimm’ring crown,

  Receive thy oath of fealty now and more:

  Assigned me Scotland’s heir and with thy death

  Unite two kingdoms as God’s certain will.

  And when our strength’s restored, fill Arthur’s tomb.

  CONRANUS

  All this the wheezing king did set in charge?

  MORDRED

  All this and more, perchance.

  CONRANUS

  Loquacity18

  In dying men is rare, though not unknown.

  And of my death spoke he as urgently?

  MORDRED

  A natural death, years hence. But his is nigh,

  So let us lend a comfort at his side.

  Exeunt

  ACT III, SCENE I

  [Location: The court in London]

  Enter Gloucester and French Ambassador, attendants

/>   FRENCH AMB.

  Mon duc de Gloosestayre,1 my king à vous

  Envoys his royal love and hail Arthur.2

  GLOUCESTER

  We thank you and your great King Childebert

  Who hath to France brought peace and gentle ways.

  FRENCH AMB.

  But your Arthur has in small years defeat

  The Saxons cross the German Ocean’s3 waves.

  Rebels4 who fought do now cry up to God,

  “We are subdued! Who take our side? Hélas!”

  Arthur will now make for his kingdom laws

  And art and prosperous virtues, you say.

  But still revolters5 come as always do,

  And also more of savages who no

  Do love Lord Jesu but false cloven gods.

  I am much sad in heart to make these words

  But King Arthur has not alone the means,

  The arms and treasure, he require for all

  He wish. He must have loving friends beside.

  GLOUCESTER

  My lord, we are quite perfectly agreed.

  FRENCH AMB.

  And France can be to such this loving friend!

  My king would now make friendship’s girdle6 fast

  About the waist of him and of Arthur,

  Together joined will both be more of men.

  Also, the king has maked a daughter-child

  To give and place her on your king as queen,

  So make Arthur the heir to Childebert!

  I bring this portrait covered7 of the lady,

  Arthur may look on it and fall in love.

  And here, she writing letters to your king,

  He gives letters

  In which she make expressures most sincere.

  GLOUCESTER

  Which he will read with all attentive speed.

  Good sir, I will return to you anon,

  But beg you sit awhile in the hall.

  FRENCH AMB.

  Merci, bon duc. I think we make good match.

  GLOUCESTER

  Were’t ours alone to make, I know we would.

  Exit Ambassador

  Were all good counsel heeded by our lords

  All kingdoms of the world would prosper well.—

  Enter Arthur

  Your Majesty, I beg, again, a word.

  ARTHUR

  O, Gloucester! Now doth Cupid lurk in shade?

  No more of Florentine grand duchesses,

  Venetian doge’s8 girls and Spain’s infanta.

  My lord, I would have no more cavilling,9

  But ask a respite from this marriage chat,

  A week, a day, to feast our victories,

  And then thou mayst molest me with this prate.10

  GLOUCESTER

  You were thrice blest at Lincoln, York, and Bath.

  My king, a marriage now will fasten peace.

  Your hopes for Britain’s weal11 demand great sums.

  The king of France would have you be his heir!

  ARTHUR

  How seemeth she to thee, the French princesse?

  GLOUCESTER

  There’s but the envoy’s word and painted cloth,

  Still covered o’er ’til you consent to look.

  But sure she is not loathsome.

  ARTHUR

  Mend my soul!12

  With praise as this, one need not fear of scorn.

  GLOUCESTER

  Her disposition she reveals in this.

  Gives letter

  ARTHUR

  I want it not. You know I speak no French.

  GLOUCESTER

  Nor Spanish nor Italian, King. I know.

  With exercise your tongue can learn the trick.

  You need but muster out the words “I wed.”

  ARTHUR

  If they do love me so, they could learn English.

  Are there no foreign princesses who can?

  GLOUCESTER

  My king, I beg of you, a list’ning mood.

  A happy kingdom wants a steady hand

  To steer through white-topped billows, storms, and fear,

  When curdled sea with oily fingers threats

  To fist the groaning crew from greasy deck.

  ARTHUR

  Less peroration,13 Gloucester. Hit the mark.

  GLOUCESTER

  The royal sceptre must be straightly held

  And not with ev’ry wind rock left and right.

  ARTHUR

  Too much synecdoche for this crowned head.14

  GLOUCESTER

  Too hot, my king, your fancies and vexations.

  For those who sway the rule must needs be led

  By cooler humors, not by passions’ pricks.

  In marriage men are spared from wilder lusts:

  Their anger melts away, they find them calm.

  ARTHUR

  You paint a dreaded scene, you god of love.

  An if the lady find me not her taste?

  GLOUCESTER